


Clearing Up a Misconception

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [81]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Derek Hale, Butt Plugs, Cock Slut Derek Hale, Come Marking, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Hairy Derek Hale, Jackson Whittemore Being an Asshole, Large Cock, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Derek Hale, Public Sex, Riding, Rough Sex, Stiles Stilinski Has a Big Dick, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Top Stiles Stilinski, Topping from the Bottom, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: After he overhears Jackson theorising incorrectly—and offensively—about his and Derek's sexual roles, Stiles talks Derek into putting on a show for the entire pack to prove a point.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [81]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/887604
Comments: 38
Kudos: 401
Collections: Teen Wolf ▶ Derek Hale / Stiles Stilinski





	Clearing Up a Misconception

**Author's Note:**

  * For [T_bandy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_bandy/gifts), [PrincessaBitchessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessaBitchessa/gifts).



> **DISCLAIMER:** The dubious consent tag only applies to Jackson being an unwilling observer.

Stiles is minding his own business in the Hale House kitchen, sitting at the island with one of his college textbooks open in front of him. He has earphones in, the latest album by his favourite band playing on a loop while he studies, but he takes them out briefly to go to the fridge for a bottle of water. It's important to stay hydrated, after all.

While he's up, Stiles hears his name mentioned in the living room and, his curiosity getting the better of him, listens more closely. There are a few other conversations to filter out—most of the pack is present right now, ready for the weekly dinner they all have together—but the one he's looking for features just Erica and Jackson. Nothing too bad about that on its own, even though Jackson always annoys the shit out of Stiles. What _is_ bad, however, it's what they're discussing. Last time Stiles checked, what he and Derek got up to in the privacy of the master bedroom was nobody else's business.

Wearing a frown, Stiles sips from his water and continues to listen. His eyes widen in disbelief at what Jackson comes out with next.

"I bet Stilinski's always the one getting reamed," the beta says superciliously. "He seems like the type."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Erica asks.

"Derek's the Alpha. Stilinski's just…Stilinski. There's no way Derek would _ever_ let him fuck him."

Erica snorts. "If you say so."

"I do. It's obvious. Derek's not that weak."

"And Stiles is?"

"Duh. Like I said, he's just a little human. I bet Derek fucks him hard and Stilinski just lies there and moans like a total bitch."

"Umm…maybe we should stop talking about this," Erica says nervously. "Stiles is right in the kitchen, and if he hears us—"

"Oh please." Jackson laughs cruelly. "What can _he_ do to me?"

"You should probably listen to her, dude," Isaac chimes in. "You sound like an asshole."

"Nothing new there," Erica tacks on quietly, and Stiles would go in there and give her a high five if he weren't so incensed.

Water pours over his hand as he squeezes his water bottle too tight. Stiles doesn't mind bottoming, sure, but between him and Derek, _Derek_ is the one who _loves_ it. That's not the misconception that has Stiles mad, though. No, it's everything else Jackson insinuated. It's everything he _stated outright_ , like it was fact and not his misguided opinion. Even if it were Stiles getting fucked all the time, that wouldn't make him weak.

And it doesn't make Derek weak for loving Stiles' dick up his ass.

If Derek weren't getting groceries and had heard what Stiles just did, Stiles thinks there would be one less beta in the Hale Pack—and it wouldn't be because he kicked Jackson out. It would be because Jackson was no longer _breathing_. Hell, Stiles is tempted to have a go himself to defend his mate's honour. But, as satisfying as it would be, he'd prefer not to end up in jail for attempted murder.

There has to be something else Stiles can do. He can't allow Jackson to go on thinking such offensive things like that. He has to be corrected.

But how?

Stiles is still trying to solve this little conundrum when the front door opens on the other side of the house and Derek's voice reaches his ears. He sets his water down on the side, quickly dries his hand on the dishtowel hanging from the oven handle and exits the kitchen. He strolls right through the living room, not looking at any of the betas there. He ignores the total silence that settles over the place like a layer of cold snow, pretending he didn't hear anything Jackson said. There'll be time to revisit _that_ later, but first he has to rope Derek into his planning. It involves him too, after all, so he deserves to have some input.

Reaching the foyer now, Stiles finds Derek shutting the front door with his foot because his arms are full of four paper grocery bags. How he got the door open in the first place is a mystery.

"Hey," Stiles greets. He takes two of the bags from his mate, even though he greatly enjoys the way Derek's biceps bulged with the extra weight.

"Hey, yourself," Derek says, pecking Stiles on the lips. "Help me unload all this?"

"Don't even need to ask, Sourwolf. It was probably about time I take a break from studying anyway."

It takes barely five minutes for them to put everything in its proper place, including all the ingredients for dinner. Once it's done, Stiles finishes his water and taps Derek's shoulder. "C'mon, there's something we need to talk about. Upstairs."

Derek arches an eyebrow. "And we can't do it down here?"

Stiles shakes his head and leads the way. At the bottom of the stairs, he glances into the living room and catches Jackson watching them.

 _Just you wait,_ he thinks darkly. _Just. You. Wait._

* * *

That evening, once he's put dinner in the oven, Stiles enters the living room. The other members of the pack are all there still. Jackson, Lydia, Isaac and Boyd are spread out between the sofa and one of the armchairs, while Erica, Scott and Allison sit around the coffee table playing a card game. Stiles locates Derek in the second armchair and gets his attention.

"Now?" the Alpha asks, obviously recalling what they discussed and agreed upon earlier, after they got to their bedroom.

"Yup," Stiles replies, popping the P.

Erica flicks her gaze between the two of them, confused. "Now, what?"

"You'll find out soon. You all will." Stiles crosses his arms over his chest and focuses his attention on the irascible beta who started this. "Especially Jacky-boy here."

Jackson scoffs. "The fuck did _I_ do?"

"Me and Derek are gonna teach you a very valuable lesson."

"Sure you are…"

Derek rises from the sofa and effortlessly picks up the coffee table, brushing off the surprised squawks of the betas who were playing cards. He moves it into the corner, keeping it level so nothing falls off of it.

"What're you two planning?" Lydia enquires. She stops painting her nails to peer up at Stiles expectantly. "What lesson are you teaching?"

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend?" Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. "He's the one who made me realise it needed to be taught in the first place."

Jackson looks slightly panicked now, catching on. His eyes widen and his lips tighten. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No? So I didn't overhear you and Erica discussing my sex life this afternoon?"

Erica giggles, apparently enjoying the idea of Jackson getting reprimanded. "I warned you. So did Isaac."

"Jackson, what did you say?" Lydia asks, her voice dripping with a sweetness that everyone in the pack knows promises danger.

Jackson opens and closes his mouth several times. "I…I…"

"Fine. I'll tell her," Stiles says, moving to stand in the space the coffee table used to occupy. Derek takes up a position next to him, shoulder to shoulder. "He was talking about how I must be the one getting fucked all the time and how weak and less-than he believes that makes me. You used the word 'bitch', right? And you call Danny your best friend."

Scott wrinkles his nose at the mention of Stiles having sex, while Lydia smacks her boyfriend's arm.

"Jackson!"

"What?!" said beta exclaims defensively. "You can't say it isn't true!"

"But it isn't," Derek interjects with a low growl. "It isn't true at all. In fact…none of it is. And since you thought our sex life was your business, we're gonna make it official. We're going to show you."

This brings all talking to a halt. Everyone stares at Stiles and Derek in shock, like their brains can't quite process the new information they've been given.

Erica is the one to recover first. "You're…gonna what?"

"Show you," Stiles says.

"And that means…?"

Stiles gives her a wink. "What do you think it means?"

Excitement lights up the blonde's face. "Oh fuck yes!"

"I think you mean, 'Fuck no'!" Jackson yells, leaping up from the sofa. "I'm not watching Stilinski get fucked."

"Really? You wouldn't wanna see that?" Isaac says, his tone accusatory. "What with how you were talking about it earlier, I thought you basically _wanted_ to see it. You seemed pretty obsessed with it. Is that something else you need to tell Lydia?"

Jackson sputters and clenches his fists at his sides before storming away. Derek doesn't let him get far.

"Stop!" the man barks, his irises flashing red as he injects the order with his Alpha authority. As a beta, Jackson has no choice but to obey. "Sit back down."

Walking stiffly, Jackson retakes his spot next to Lydia with an acidic glower.

"Besides, Jackson, you won't be watching Derek fuck me," Stiles says, moving to stand in front of him. He bends his legs slightly and rests his hands on his knees, bringing himself to the same level as the other boy.

Jackson snarls. "Good."

Stiles gives a hum of amusement and smiles. "You'll be watching _me_ fuck _him_."

Erica squeals and bounces up and down. "Now this I _definitely_ have to see! I can, right? You're not gonna make me leave?"

"You can stay." Stiles rises to his full height again. "In fact, everyone can stay if they want. You can also go upstairs to your rooms until we're done. The only one who _has_ to stay is Jackson here."

Erica rubs her palms together and settles in for the show. "Ooh baby, this is gonna be good."

"Yeah, I'm out," Scott announces as he stands up and holds his hand out to help Allison up too. "Stiles is like my brother. No way in hell I'm watching that. Ali?"

The huntress peers up at him bashfully. "Uhh…I kinda wanna see, at least a bit. If that's okay."

Scott makes a face of disgust. "Why?"

"Because they're both hot, dumbass," Erica answers for Allison. "Duh."

Allison tilts her head in the other girl's direction. "What she said."

Scott throws up his hands. "Fine, but don't tell me anything. It's bad enough knowing this is going on down here where we all hang out."

"Dude, if you think this'll be the first time me and Derek fuck outside of our bedroom, I've got news for you," Stiles gleefully apprises.

Scott blinks. "You mean…?"

"Oh, trust us. We cleaned up after, but we _thoroughly_ christened this house the moment construction was finished. Only places we didn't touch were your bedrooms."

"Eww."

Scott's departure is swift with that revelation, and no one follows him. Erica is obviously still excited. Lydia is curious, whereas Isaac and Boyd give off the impression of not caring one way or another.

"A nice audience," Stiles opines with a nod. "I'd be lying if I said the exhibitionist in me wasn't doing a little happy dance right now."

"I always knew you'd be kinky," Erica says.

"Guilty as charged."

Throughout the banter, Jackson sits rigidly in place, his expression stormy. He keeps his eyes glued to the ceiling, as if that will save him from what he's about to witness. Another Alpha command remedies that.

"Perfect." Stiles says, deeply pleased. "Now you can't look away."

"You're a bastard, Stilinski," Jackson seethes.

"And proud of it, Whittemore. Now," Stiles says, traipsing the short distance back to Derek's side. "Derek and I talked about it a lot earlier, and this won't turn into an orgy. You get so hot you wanna screw too—and I wouldn't be able to blame you, with the hunk of beef next to me—you've got your rooms upstairs. Derek's mine, so no touching either. Also, this'll be a one-time thing. Don't expect a repeat performance. We're doing this because of what Jackson said about me probably taking it like a bitch and being weak because of it. I've already said he's wrong, but I think I should repeat it—and it's not just because Jackson was wrong about me being the one getting 'reamed' all the time, as he put it."

Lydia cocks her head to the side. It's like she's approaching this like a science experiment or something. "It's not?"

Derek takes over. "Nope. Stiles bottoms every now and then, but out of the two of us, I'm the one who really loves getting fucked."

"You _do_ have a great ass, Derek," Erica says with an approving purse of her lips.

Stiles reaches behind Derek and gets a good handful. "I know, right? Like a peach, plump and juicy."

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Anyway, I won't stand for Jackson's way of thinking about either of us, so we're proving a point."

"Well?" Erica prompts impatiently. "We're waiting!"

With a chuckle, Stiles turns to Derek and arches an eyebrow at him, silently asking him if he's ready. He gets a nod back, and Stiles wraps a hand around the back of Derek's neck and draws him into a kiss. It's passionate and fierce right away, both of them giving as good as they've got. The room is completely silent apart from the sounds of their lips and tongues sliding together—and a moan or two is added when Stiles fondles Derek's ass again, this time pressing an insistent finger between Derek's cheeks to brush over his hole through two layers of fabric.

Impossibly aroused by the knowledge that they're being watched, Stiles moves things along, needing to get inside of Derek as soon as possible.

He brings both hands to the hem of his mate's henley and tugs it up his torso. They have to break their kiss for him to get it off—a real hardship, but it's worth it to get his hands on Derek's hairy chest. He strips off his own T-shirt while he's at it.

"This is the best thing I've ever seen," Erica murmurs somewhere in the background.

"Didn't you used to have a crush on him?" _Isaac,_ Stiles registers distantly, referring to him.

"I totally did. They're both lucky."

"True." _Lydia this time._

"Hey!" _Jackson._

"Just shut up and keep watching, babe. You deserve it."

Fumbling blindly with the fastenings of Derek's jeans, unable to look away from Derek's face for even a second, Stiles quickly gives up and tears the things open instead. The button goes flying.

"Damn, that's aggressive." _Isaac._

While Derek steps out of his jeans, Stiles works on his chinos and both garments go the same way as their shirts. They rub off against each other for a few moments, until the last barriers between them become too much and Stiles has to remove them. He bends down to push his own boxers down his legs and kicks them off to the side, and Derek copies him, baring themselves entirely to the scrutiny of their audience.

"Fucking hell." _Isaac again._ "He's…packing more than I would've thought."

"And now I'm jealous." _Erica._ "Sorry, baby."

A grunt. _Boyd._

"Me too. A bit." _Lydia._ "And I'm not sorry," she adds, a jab at Jackson.

Stiles knows exactly what they're talking about. He's still quite skinny, even after running with a pack of werewolves for years and especially compared to Derek, but one thing he's always had going for him is the size of his dick. No one else knew, of course—not even Scott or the guys on the lacrosse team back in high school, because he's more of a grower than a shower. The pack knows now, though, and Stiles chuckles to himself as he strokes his erection, his fingers not even touching his thumb.

"I can't believe Derek takes that monster," Isaac says. "My ass hurts just looking at it."

"How big is it, Stiles?" _Erica._

Stiles glances at her and winks again. "Eight-and-a-half inches, last time I measured," he answers smugly.

"Jesus…"

Refocusing on his mate, Stiles releases himself and wraps his hand around Derek's cock instead. He's smaller than Stiles—seven inches, and a bit thinner too—but it's no less satisfying. It's not like Derek uses it much anyway. Stiles swipes his thumb over the head to collect the bead of pre-come forming there and licks it off. He hums, pleased, at the bitter taste.

Derek's irises flash red with arousal and he all but tackles Stiles to the ground. Stiles is grateful for the rug cushioning his landing, and then he has a very horny werewolf straddling his stomach and he can't think of anything but the way his cock slots into the crack of Derek's ass. The tip catches on the silicone hidden there—so close to where he wants it, and yet so far away. It's a tease.

To get back at his sexy mate, Stiles grabs more handfuls of Derek's generous ass cheeks and smacks them. Derek groans and bends forward over Stiles, one hand planted next to Stiles' head, and arches his back, all but presenting his ass for more.

What else can Stiles do but oblige?

"Guess Stiles wasn't kidding," Erica says, her voice dripping with awe.

Allison makes a noise of agreement.

In his peripheral vision, Stiles catches the brunette leaning to the side so she can get a better view of Derek's ass. He can't blame her.

Another couple spanks later, Stiles flips them over so Derek is the one on his back and Stiles is between his legs. He finds the plug keeping Derek's hole open for him and tugs on it—not enough to pull it out, just shallowly fucking the Alpha with it. It's his turn to tease, and he doesn't stop until Derek glares up at him and growls at him to get on with it, his dick leaking pre-come into the trail of dark hair beneath his bellybutton.

Stiles sticks his tongue out at him but does so, taking the plug out entirely and throwing it off to the side, away from their audience. He searches the floor for his chinos and retrieves the mostly empty tube of lube he took from his nightstand upstairs. Once three of his fingers are nice and slick, he slides two all the way up Derek's ass and scissors them apart for a few seconds, double-checking that Derek is stretched out enough for a third. Sure that he is, Stiles adds the third digit and curls them just right to brush them all over his prostate.

Derek arches off of the floor with a loud moan and fists his hands in the rug beneath him, his hirsute chest heaving.

"See him?" Stiles says to Jackson, who still has no choice but to watch. "See how much he enjoys it? Your big, strong Alpha moaning like that just from my fingers. Think this makes him weak?"

Jackson shakes his head. Whether he's actually changed his mind or is just telling Stiles what he wants to hear is unclear, but whatever the truth, Stiles will take it.

Withdrawing his fingers, he uses the lube still on them to slick up his cock. "Ready?" he asks Derek.

The older man spreads his legs wider. "Do it."

Stiles makes the first thrust inside syrupy slow; no matter how many times they do this, he's still big. It doesn't take that long for Derek to get antsy, though, experienced bottom that he is, and once Stiles feels Derek's hole loosen slightly, he sets a relatively brisk pace from the get-go. The point of this was to put on a show for their pack, so he's going to give them the best damn show he can. Derek must be thinking along a similar vein because his moans are slightly louder than they usually are—not fake, Stiles can tell, but he's for sure playing it up a little.

"F-fuck! Right there!" Derek gasps out when Stiles hits his prostate again.

Stiles smirks and goes harder, their skin slapping together. Tearing his gaze away from the vision that is his mate in the throes of passion, he spots Isaac reentering the room. The beta must have left sometime between the fingering and the fucking, but he's back now, sipping from a glass of water. His countenance remains unaffected by what's going on in front of him, but the bulge in his jeans tells another story.

Unspeakably satisfied by this, Stiles kisses Derek again. He twists one of his nipples and greedily swallows the whimper it gets him.

Eventually, Stiles lets out a yelp as his vision suddenly blurs. When it clears, he finds himself on his back once more, with Derek riding his dick for all he's worth. He's leant back with his hands on Stiles' shins, his chest thrust out, nipples hard.

"I think he's…it's called a power bottom, right?" Isaac asks the room at large. He takes another sip of his water.

"Yup," Lydia confirms. "You enjoying it, babe?"

Jackson slumps back into the sofa cushions and his expression becomes resigned.

"Stiles looked like he had more technique than you, to be honest," Lydia taunts him, going back to painting her nails. "Could give you some pointers."

Jackson grumbles under his breath.

As Derek slams himself down onto Stiles' cock again and again, his own erection smacks against his hair-dusted abs. It leaks copious pre-come and looks painfully hard, the tip nearly purple where it peeks out of his foreskin. Stiles takes pity on him and holds it in a loose grip, letting Derek's movements do the work for him.

"Fuck! Stiles—" the Alpha grits out, sweat beading on his brow.

"You getting close, Sourwolf?"

"Y-yeah…"

Tightening his grip, Stiles only has to wait another twenty seconds or so for Derek's orgasm to hit. He spurts wildly, painting Stiles' torso. One string of jizz even makes it as far as Stiles' chin.

The sight of Derek right then, his face twisted up in tortured pleasure, combined with the way Derek's hole clenches down around him, has Stiles' own release rapidly approaching. He bucks up a few times into the heat of Derek's body to help himself along, and then it's upon him. He fills his mate with his seed, ensuring that his scent will stay on Derek for quite a while, even through a shower.

In the aftermath, the living room is filled with Stiles and Derek's heavy breathing as they recover. Derek pushes himself forward so he's sitting up properly again and rests his palms on Stiles' chest.

"Boyd…" Erica murmurs next to them, rising from the sofa. Cracking open his eyes reveals to Stiles that her cheeks are flushed red.

Another grunt from her boyfriend.

"Upstairs. I need to ride you like that," she says. " _Now_."

Boyd sweeps Erica up into his arms, and before he sprints from the room, Stiles notes that he's in a similar state to Isaac.

Speaking of Isaac, said beta pushes away from the doorjamb separating the living room from the kitchen. "I'm gonna head out early today," he says.

"You'll miss dinner," Lydia points out.

"Yeah, but I'm horny _now_ and need to get laid. I'll get something to eat while I'm out." Isaac pauses next to where Derek and Stiles are still joined on the floor. "Thanks for the show. It actually made for pretty good viewing, even for a straight guy."

Stiles snorts. "You're welcome."

Then, just Stiles, Derek, Allison, Lydia and Jackson remain. "Can I go now?" the latter asks with a pout.

Derek climbs off of Stiles, both of them wincing as Stiles' softening cock slips out of his puffy hole. He stands there in his birthday suit, completely unashamed as come drips down the back of his thigh. "I don't know. Did you learn your lesson."

"Yeah, yeah…" Jackson sighs. "Bottoming doesn't make you weak. Lesson learned. I won't say anything like that again."

"Good. Yeah, you can go."

"Thank fuck for that."

Jackson exits the living room, no doubt retreating to the safety of his and Lydia's bedroom. To Stiles' amazement, he gets a glimpse of a bulge in the front of his old bully's jeans before he's gone. Huh.

"I agree with Isaac," Allison says as she gets her feet as well. "That _was_ great, and if I can talk Scott into it, I'm gonna pull an Erica."

Derek holds out a hand for Stiles, and Stiles takes it, allowing himself to be helped up. "Shower?" the Alpha suggests.

Stiles checks the clock on the wall. "Yeah, we've got a bit of time. Lydia?"

Said redhead hums to show she's listening.

"Keep an ear out for the timer I set, okay? Just in case I'm not back before dinner's ready."

Lydia finishes painting her last fingernail and screws the cap back onto her bottle of polish. "Sure. Get outta here."

"Thanks!" Stiles chirps, dragging Derek out of the room.

Derek grins at him on their way up the stairs. "I think that went well, don't you?"

Stiles grins back. "Definitely."

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was a bit different for me, I have to say. To be honest, I'm not too sure I like the end result all that much, but I wanted to post it here anyway. I _did_ enjoy writing Jackson getting a form of comeuppance, everyone being sassy with each other, and especially how turned on they all got watching Derek and Stiles go at it. Let's be real—who _wouldn't_ have a similar reaction if those two fucked right in front of you? Even Jackson wasn't safe. XD
> 
> Anyway, make sure to let me know if you liked this fic in a comment down below. I always love hearing from you guys. :)
> 
> Thank you to PrincessaBitchessa and T_bandy for giving me this prompt. This wasn't _exactly_ what you wanted, but I hope it satisfied anyway.
> 
> Stay tuned for my next PWP, in which Omega Stiles gets a massage from Alpha Derek, complete with 'happy ending'.
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future updates go live. And please check out my past fics if you haven't already and are interested.**


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